Page 60 of Anything (Mayberry University #1)

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

A dance studio, right here on campus. To my right, a barre.

To my left, a pristine mirrored wall. I’m greeted by my own shocked face in the reflection, blue eyes wide and thrilled.

I step onto the polished wood floor and kick off my shoes.

Dance floors can’t have dirt on them. Levi chuckles—I don’t know why—and maybe follows suit.

I’m too busy gaping at this magical place.

He did this?

When I glance over, he’s sheepish, but at least his posture is relaxing. I run my hand along the brand-new barre, smooth and bolted firmly to the wall. I can’t resist a glissade as I cross the room—“I didn’t help it.” Film on the back window blurs a swaying pine outside.

Matte black walls, speakers mounted discreetly. A cognac leather arm chair is nestled in the corner on a sheepskin rug. Levi’s fingerprints are everywhere, so to speak. It’s the most modern, elegant studio I’ve ever seen.

Oh—and on that cozy chair proudly sits a red box topped by a white satin bow as big as the box itself. Broad white letters scream “Capezio.” I know what kind of present comes in boxes like that. I spin to Levi.

“Open it.” He tips his head toward the prize.

I sprint the rest of the way, nearly slipping in my socks, and tear into the box like it’s Christmas morning. Lyrical dance shoes in the perfect size. He remembered every detail.

“Do you remember at IHOP when you told us you loved ballet?” he says.

“You had the most beautiful look in your eyes. Like pure joy.” He arrives at my corner with uncharacteristic shyness.

“It was obvious you were going through something, and I just wanted you to have, well, your version of what swimming is for me. I had this feeling that it might help. But like I said, no pressure.”

Wow. So many gifts. Thank you.

I drop the shoes and reach to hug Levi but flinch, remembering the risk. I spot a Tic Tac box in his pocket and give it a try. His arms fold around me and I settle into his chest. Maybe hugs are okay. Could I have been hugging him all this time?

Every one of my muscles slackens until I’m floating in comfort. Even Levi’s hugs overachieve.

“You have no idea how good this is,” I say. “How helpful, how perfect.” I’ll have so many opportunities to remember to let go, to give God my worries. I lift my chin to his chest. “What do you mean you and the guys did it yourself? What was this before?”

His arms loosen to motion. “It was a multipurpose room. They were only using it for storage a few months ago. The wood floors were already in, but we refinished them. Haymitch taught us.” He beams. “We installed the mirrors and barre and speakers and everything. And painted.”

I shake my head. I can’t believe he did manual labor to keep me from feeling guilty. “And the school let you?”

“Yes.” A mysterious look. “I made an arrangement. I’ll tell you another time if you want. ”

“Okay …”

I enjoy his back and sides as I pull away. How can someone so solid give such delectable hugs? More research is warranted.

I ditch my socks and try on these beautiful new shoes.

Soft tan leather, a perfect fit. My feet arrive in first position with a will of their own.

Leg out to tendu in front of me. Those toes are so happy squeezing into a hard point.

My leg circles around in ronde de jambe .

I can hardly stand still. Something in me begs to be unleashed.

“It’s yours until you graduate.”

I whip my head to him. “Mine?”

He confirms.

I’ll wrap my head around that later. For now I push up my long sleeves and twist my hair into a tight knot. I need a hair tie, but the bobby pin in my pocket will do. Ah, and the leggings make sense. I hope he’s not expecting me to show off right now.

“Should I get out of here?” he asks. “Or do you want to take me up on our deal?”

“That does make for some excellent bribery.” I return his flirty smile.

I step into him, and his strong arms wrap around me again. He smells even better from here. Clean laundry and mint and boy smell. His heart beats a contented slow beat. What a dream.

“No, get out of here,” I say. “I need to acquaint myself with my studio.” Sending him out while squeezing him close—a new kind of mixed message.

He leans toward the side of my head but abruptly stops.

“It’s okay. Those don’t seem to cause trouble.”

A kiss on my temple. Bliss.

“Thank you.” I feel that old tug to pay him back, but I fight it. Appreciation doesn’t feel like enough, but it’ll have to be.

“For the kiss?” he jokes. “They’re on unlimited offer.”

I send him a goofy, transcendent smile. “Yes, please. But really, you’re amazing. I can’t believe this place. It couldn’t be more perfect. ”

He brushes a wisp of hair back with whisper-soft fingers. And then he strides away with a swoop to grab his shoes. “Let’s talk Wodehouse later,” he adds. “I did my homework.” A wink, and the door clicks shut behind him.

I relish a now familiar flutter in my stomach. I can’t believe this is my life. I pan my surreal surroundings. And my studio.

Share it.

A dream floods into my mind and courses through my veins.

Mayberry girls stretching before class in a circle on the floor.

A Bible study before ballet instruction.

A theme for each week. One for hope. One for surrender.

One for courage … A floor combination with steps to echo the theme. Faith made physical.

Is that you?

A combination for hope lays itself out in my mind. Arabesque with a forward reach, step forward, drag turn. Slow fifth rélevé with port de bras and eyes to the sky. Piqué turn, chassé, grand jeté. The beauty of those precious girls acting out their faith with their bodies.

Wait, I can’t teach. And that’s too much to cover in a beginner class. And who would even come?

Right . I glance at the ceiling and breathe out a half-laugh. I’ll let you be the mastermind.

For now, it’s time to warm up. I’m dying to try that grand jeté across this glorious floor.